


Fish and Foreplay

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-02
Updated: 2002-02-02
Packaged: 2018-11-20 14:32:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11337441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Mulder discovers a new kink.





	Fish and Foreplay

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Fish and Foreplay

## Fish and Foreplay

#### by Sin

Title: Fish and Foreplay  
Author: Sin  
Feedback to:   
Author's Website: http://www.darkmage.net/sin/xf_fiction.html  
Status: Complete  
Category: Unclassified  
Pairing (Primary): Mulder/Krycek  
Pairing(s) (Secondary):   
Crossover Fandom (if any):   
Crossover Info (if any):   
Other Pairing Info:   
Rating: NC-17  
Spoilers:   
Permission to Archive: You want it, take it. Just let me know. =)  
Series or Sequel/Prequel:   
Notes: Feedback: *Sin waves a card saying, 'Will write for feedback. Please feed a starving author.'*   
THANKS: Kirstie for the beta, Indy for encouragement, Medusa for Mulder support, the friends who read this for me and told me I did good, Bernice who started the whole damn thing by sending me off to have a look at a certain link in the first place! =) and lastly, to everyone that sent me feedback for my last few stories - THANK YOU!   
ADDITIONAL THANKS: To Neige, who gave me the inspiration for comfy afternoon Mulder with this collage. [http://www.lerefuge.ca/letthesunshinein.jpg]  
Warnings:   
Disclaimer: Well, seeing as no one else seems to want them, I call dibs! Okay, wishful thinking I know, but you know the drill. They're not mine, they have an abusive relationship going on with 1013 and Fox.  
Summary: Mulder discovers a new kink.

* * *

It's not often that I can get the drop on him, but there are times, a very few times, when his concentration is so focused on something else that I can take him unawares. And, believe me, I take advantage of those times, as they are few and far between. 

Like now - he's sitting over on the couch with his laptop, chuckling to himself. 

I never could resist him when he's laughing. It makes him look surprisingly cute. Cute is not a description that I'd normally associate with Alex, but there's something about the way unfettered laughter makes the lingering shadows fade from his eyes that makes him look incredibly young and open. Add to that the spiky hair and bare feet and you've got an image worth framing because it's so completely different from his usual manner. 

No else gets to see this side of him, not really. Oh, they may catch glimpses of it in lighthearted moments but never the full effect. Only I get to see it and that's just the way I like it. 

Now I want to know what my favourite ex-assassin is laughing about, because he's not telling and I don't think that's very fair. 

Bare feet barely make a sound on wood floors if you're careful and he's shown me enough that, while I have no hope of matching his level of silent grace, I could probably sneak up on a lesser person without a problem. I'm just grateful that he's distracted so I can surprise him. 

"I thought you were reading?" 

Damn, foiled again. 

"I'm bored." Well, I am. My book held absolutely no appeal for me once I heard those first muffled chuckles coming from the couch. Slumping down next to him, I look over his shoulder at the computer screen. "What's so funny?" 

"This page." Fount of information there, Alex. Thank you so much. He's playing with me, the bastard. 

"What's so special about it?" 

"It's a surrealist compliment generator," he offers, as he refeshes the page and goes off into another fit of giggles. 

Okay, giggling Alex. This is new. Let's see what the fuss is about. Fuck! I forgot how small he has the text set and I left my glasses over with my book. 

"Um, Alex. Want to up the text size for me? Not all of us have perfect vision like you." I just know I'm asking for it but I want to know what he's finding so entertaining. 

"Want me to read it for you, Gramps?" 

"Fuck off, Alex." Bastard. I will get you for that crack, you little shit. 

To sulk or not to sulk, that is the question. It's not that hard a decision -sulking wins. So I take myself back to my book. Besides, it normally gets him doing what I want quicker. I'm not adverse to using whatever weapons I have against him and he never has been able to resist the judicious use of a pouting lower lip. Let's see how long this takes. 

Slipping my glasses back on, I shoot him dark stare over the top of the rims before pointedly opening my book again. I really don't want to go back to reading it, I'd much rather be over on the couch. Which I will be, if he'll only be predictable in his reaction. 

"C'mon, don't be like that." 

Bingo. Right on the money. 

"I was just kidding." 

Let's eke out the tension just a little longer. 

"Geez, Fox." 

I try and hide my smile behind the book as I detect the rising exasperation in his voice but I know he's seen it when a gusty sigh is accompanied by a muttered, "You're such a prick." 

He's right, you know. I am a prick. I don't know why I feel the need to play these little games with him, though I'm sure I could work it out if I ever bothered to think about it. What I do know is that I play my games and he plays his. I accept that, he accepts that and it makes our life interesting. 

In mute apology for the subterfuge, I take myself back over to the couch. As I sit down he sends me a mock glare which collapses with a startled yelp when I nip at his neck.. "You know I'll remember this. Just wait until you come home from an eye exam with a long face." 

"I wouldn't expect anything less. That's why I'm getting my shots in now." 

Smartass. But he's my smartass. I send a ruffling hand through his hair as I turn to look at the screen. Ah, gotta love how much easier those little pieces of curved glass make it to read. As the page comes into focus, I can't help myself and almost fall into Alex's lap as I start laughing. 

I mean it was obvious that this generator thing was funny, but I wasn't expecting to see 'Madam! How your enormous foreskin shades me from the sun!' The look on Alex's face is sweet. He looks happy. I think he must like seeing me laugh as much as I like to see him do it. "You have a warped sense of humour, Alex." 

"Excuse me? Looks who's talking. Mr 'I almost fell off the couch laughing'." 

How very true. I guess that makes us both warped. Not a bad situation to be in, all things considering. Actually, this almost falling into his lap gives me an idea. Shifting around on the couch, I scrunch down so I can use his thigh as a pillow. Hmmm, nice. Not that I can really see the screen from here, but these are the sacrifices we make, just like having my legs half hanging over the arm of the couch. It's a dirty job, but I'm more than willing to do it. 

He's looking at me with that little smile that quirks his lips. It always makes me think that he's just about to shake his head in fond exasperation over my behaviour. Either that or roll his eyes. But this time, all he does is brush his fingers across my hair and continue to smile at me. It's a nice sensation. 

My insistent move for closeness has unbalanced his own arrangement with the laptop, but he allows it and shifts to accommodate the change. I wait until he's positioned the computer and the coffee table to his satisfaction, before resettling myself and shooting a grin of my own up at him. I can't help but say, "Play it again, Alex." 

I've never admitted to having a good sense of humour, like everything else about me it's idiosyncratic. And this time he does roll his eyes in combination with that fond little smile. The slight movement of the body underneath my head and the faint click indicate that he's refreshed the page, so I raise my head to have a look. This really is an awkward position for trying to do this. Oh well. Sacrifices and all that. 

Okay, that one is just bizarre. I think Alex thinks the same because the page is reloading again. Oh my God. This is just too funny. "That's you, Alex." 

"What?" 

"Looked in the mirror lately? Those eyelashes are lethal." 

There go the eyes again. He really hates it when I say things like that. It has something to do with what's happened to him in the past. I know he hasn't told me all of it, but I'm sure he will one day and I can wait until then. Besides, we're trying to move on from the past so I won't push. One of these days he'll get used to them, especially if I do it often enough. 

He tries to shrug off whatever remembrance it is that I've inadvertently called up and looks away from me, from the computer screen. I reach up and brush his cheek in silent apology. I know it's accepted when he looks back down at me and leans into my light touch. 

"It's okay, Fox. Just bad memories." 

No matter how hard we try, we will always be haunted by the past. We can accept our actions, our decisions, but we'll always live with the regret and the guilt for the mistakes that we made. Alex takes it harder than I do though, granted, he does have the lion's share of regret. But I'm no lightweight in that regard either. Time does heal, but it takes acceptance to affect the cure. "Hey." 

"What?" 

"Feed me some more compliments, Alex." It's a pitiful attempt to break him out of his dark thoughts, but I can see the thanks in his eyes when he offers me a quick smile before turning his attention back to the computer once more. 

I don't even bother to look at the screen, instead I focus my attention on him. His chuckles are a little half-hearted at first, but after a few reloads the tension begins to drain out of him and he lets the bizarre enjoyment of the generator suck him in again. 

"Hey, here's one for you." 

"What? Oh." Busted. Oh well, he knows I worry sometimes and still he lets me get away with it. One of those little compromises that we've made in our relationship. A compliment for me? I'm curious now. I can't help but smile when I see what's come up on the page. "I think that one's for both of us. I'm not the only depraved one in this relationship." 

His grin wipes away those last lingering shadows as he tries to affect that disbelieving innocent look of his, the one that puts the little crease between his eyebrows. Too bad the flash of teeth ruins the effect. "Don't try and play the innocent, Alex. It doesn't suit you. Besides, I like you the way you are. Evil twin Skippy and all." 

It's a strange thing, well meant compliments will send him sinking into bad memories but the Skippy remark will always make him laugh. We both have our quirks and sensitivities. I'm just glad that I know him well enough to be able to gauge his moods. That was what used to get us into trouble in the past, my lack of knowledge. But, past is past and I have a laughing Alex under me, so to speak, so why wallow in something that can't be changed? 

Rolling onto my back, I wriggle around to find a better position on the couch. Oh yeah, that's nice. The angle of thigh and hip makes the perfect pillow. Just the right amount of padding. He's good for that. More muscle than me but it lies in all the right places. 

"Comfy?" 

His grin conveys his amusement with my squirming and I can't help but reply in kind. "Very. Thanks for asking." 

"You know you can't see the screen from there, right?" 

"I know, but I'm happy here." Who the hell wouldn't be? All I need is a nice, warm Alex to lean on and all is right in my world. "Besides, you'll read any of the good ones to me, won't you, Alex?" 

I almost laugh at the look that crosses his face as I use a little trick I learned a while ago from a certain, beloved, rat bastard. I don't have the eyelashes for it like he does, but it's obviously still effective, as he shakes his head in resignation and turns back to the screen. 

Plus, any time I can get him to talk is fine with me. I love that voice of his. It's aural porn. Phone sex without having to dial. Hands free, even. Hmmm hmmm hmmm. 

"Fox?" 

"What?" Oh shit. Did I just do that aloud? 

"What's with the humming?" 

"I'm comfortable. Call it a sigh of contentment." 

He is so not believing me. I really should know by now that there's no point in trying to lie to the sneaky bastard. He always ferrets them out in the end. But I keep on trying, 'cause you never know, one day I might actually be able to get one over on him. 

I don't know what's going on in his head, but I think he's going to let me get away with that blatant lie. Maybe it's because there's a kind of quiet contentment here at the moment. No stress, no worries, just a comfortably relaxed feeling spiced with a bit of fun. It's not often that we get to have afternoons like this, so it's best to savour them when we do. I'm more than willing to take his lead on this. 

Besides, I managed to get the most comfy seat in the place, though his body heat is kind of distracting. Not in a bad way, it's just starting to make me feel a bit drowsy is all. I could very easily go to sleep right here if it wasn't for the occasional chuckle and movement of his body. 

The warmth of him is addictive and I give into the temptation to rub my head against his thigh in a small gesture of pleasure. The smile that touches his eyes when he looks down at me is all the reward I need for that little display and I almost hum happily when he pauses in his search for new compliments to brush the hair off my forehead. 

"You okay?" 

"Just peachy." Of course I am, I have Alex as a pillow and a couch to lie on, nothing could make me happier. Alex's laugh breaks into my little internal reverie. 

"You'll love this one. 'You are as dazzling as a pregnant cow attired in electrical sockets.'" 

Okay, so maybe I was wrong. Surrealist compliments in a husky, phone sex voice does have its merits. Not only is it pretty damn funny, it's also weirdly erotic. Really wasn't expecting that. You know, I'd probably make an interesting psychological study if anyone could force me to participate. The strangest things act as triggers for me, the biggest one being Alex himself. Yet it's the combination of little things that really kick that welling warmth to life. His fingers in my chest hair, the sight of him in nothing but a pair of shorts -there's something so incredibly sexy about his bare legs, the way he tucks in his shirt and ... 

"'You move with the eloquence of a fiery wall of disintegrating fuselage.'" 

Oh yeah. You can definitely add surrealist compliments to the list. It makes the blood pool and the heat rise, bringing everything to that point of tingling awareness where a breath is as good as a kiss and a ... 

"'Your skin emanates such a porcelain sheen that I am tempted to stamp WC across your bosom and under your armpits.'" 

... surrealist compliment is as good as a touch. 

I can feel the blood starting to make it's presence known as it thrums out to my extremities. My senses are rising to the temptation just like another part of my anatomy. As a result, I can't resist the need to move, to try and adjust my position so that the pressure of my jeans is welcomed instead of being constrictive. Here's hoping it doesn't disturb him from his reading, because I _really_ don't want him to stop. Give me more, Alex! 

"'Teacups smash, flounders ignite spontaneously in your presence.'" 

Oh God. All I want to do is get up and rub myself all over him, but that would mean that the words would stop and that's not an option I want to consider. While my mind demands the continued aural stimulation, my body demands something more tactile and twitches in a small convulsive movement towards it's goal. 

Fuck. I'm so busted. I can feel the tips of my ears starting to heat up as he sends me a puzzled glance, which soon morphs into something completely different at the recognition of the autonomic responses that arousal has generated - the increased breathing, the slight flush, the erection that is trying to fight it's way free. 

"You've got to be kidding!" 

"What?" I don't know why he's surprised. I'm a self confessed pervert, he should know by now that he's my biggest fetish. 

"That's not easily hidden, you know." 

A pointed look at my crotch accompanies that observation. You know, he really does say the nicest things. I can't just let that go without a reward. He deserves it and so do I. 

Flipping over, I crawl up to his lips for a long kiss. One that I can take my time with, so as to savour the combined sensations of heat, moistness and his own unique flavour as I explore his mouth. Oh yeah, I would live in his mouth if I could and still die a happy man. He's looking a little hazy eyed himself when I finally let him catch a breath and I can't help the smirk that starts to form as I look down at him. 

"You're warped." 

"Yes." I'm thinking we're going to be here for a while, at least I hope we are, so I may as well make myself comfortable and his thighs make the perfect seat. 

"Weird." 

"Hmm hmm." What can I say? He's telling the god's honest truth here. God, he smells good. 

"Bent." 

"Oh, absolutely." I think he's starting to enjoy this, he's getting that devilish little glint in his eyes. I wonder what's going on in that twisted mind of his. 

"You have no socially redeeming value." 

"Oh yeah, baby, talk dirty to me." It's electric. It's as if his voice is connected directly to my cock. I can't help the reflexive arch as I grind my hips into his lap to meet the corresponding hardness of his own. 

"You're mad. Do that again." 

"Only if you talk to me." 

"C'mon, Fox, this is weird, even for you." 

"Please? I'll make it good." 

"You're completely unbalanced." 

"Alex!" 

" ... but 'your face is like an imperfectly shaved tennis ball.'" 

"Oh, God. More." He doesn't understand it, he probably really does think it's strange, but he'll indulge me just so I can get my rocks off. I love him, I really do. 

"If we're going to do this, we sure as hell aren't going to do this here. C'mon." 

There've been a couple of men, but mostly women, what little sexual interaction I had in my life, before him. So, it's at odd moments like this that I realise that his strength matches my own. It's an odd little recognition to have as you're being lifted off your lover's lap and hustled into the bedroom with all haste, but it's how my brain works, I guess. It does put a whole new spin on sex, though. The give and take is completely different now than it ever was before and it just adds to the enjoyment of it. 

"Off." 

Eloquent guy, my Alex, but I understand his shorthand and set about divesting myself of my clothing with all due haste. Clothes gone, barriers dropped, we tumble into bed with all the grace of a pair of gangly pups, but it gets the job done. Skin on skin, hands on flesh and the heat starts to build once more. 

We wrestle for control, but it's more a poorly hidden excuse to caress and stroke whatever we can reach than a serious play for dominance. I don't even particularly care when Alex comes out on top, just as long as he keeps up with what he's doing. 

There's an intensity about him during sex that's only matched by the concentration he shows when he's out doing something the law says he shouldn't. Which would explain why I'm lying supine on the bed, arms restrained by fleshy manacles above my head and Alex perched comfortably on my stomach. The light in his eyes warns me that things are bound to get only more interesting from here on in. 

"So ..." He drawls the word out in that sexy way he has, "surreal compliments, huh?" 

There's nothing I can say to that, he's seen the evidence of it. Hell, he can probably feel the evidence of it with the way my cock jumped at the mention of them. All I can do is try and look innocent, though I know that it's a wasted effort. 

"You're a completely warped fuck, Fox." 

He's shaking his head at me again, but I can tell that it's not in resignation this time. No, this time he's getting ready to play. Must be my lucky day. 

"So, if I say 'Your eyebrows are as verdantly forrested as the seeded woodworms of my most sombre dreams' you'll ..." 

I can't help the gasp that escapes as I twist against his hold. He's dropped his voice into that husky register and it only makes the impact that much stronger. Jesus Christ, he's good. 

"That's what I thought." 

That grin of his is completely wicked as he looks down at me. 

"So, Fox. I'm thinking that I could probably get you off with simply my voice, given the demonstration you've just given. What do you think?" 

Oh God, he's going to play this game until I'm nothing more than a bag of quivering boneless flesh. What crap do I have in my past karmic life that I deserve to have this joy now? There's not a lot I can say to deny the fact that he could easily make good on his proposition, especially considering all parts of me are jumping at the idea. "Ummm ..." 

"'I love your eyes, but only with ketchup.'" 

"Oh God." I've died. I must have. I've died and gone to heaven and been given every dream I've ever wanted all wrapped up in a one damn sexy, and infinitely accommodating, package. 

"You're such a slut." 

Oh yeah. A slut, a whore, a jade, a trollop, you name it, that's me. For this I would sell my soul, not just my body, if only to keep the sensations rolling through me. I know he's going to turn me into a whimpering lump of flesh by the time he's finished and I can hardly wait. If that makes me a slut, I revel in my slutdom. Give me more. 

God, I want it. I want the words, I want the man, I just want everything and anything I can get. It's awkward, but I manage to capture his mouth with my own. Such a wicked, talented mouth. I know he's getting off on the power of this himself, it's pretty damn obvious from his own bodily reaction. I'm getting off on him doing it, so I guess that makes us even. 

Actually, I love that he can do this to me, do something so simple and yet so profound. It makes me want to devour him, but I all I can do is take what I can for as long as he will play along with me. I don't trust many people, but when I do, it's whole-heartedly with very little reserve. He's the only one I've trusted with this much of myself and I know that he'd rather die than ever betray me again. There's power in that. Power and joy. 

When he breaks away his lips have turned that deep red colour that makes them all the more tempting. Damn him for breaking off the kiss just when it was getting good. Who cares about breathing? But before I can voice my complaint, he hits me with another one of those firecrackers. The fact that it's almost gasped out and his voice squeaks at the end only adds to the overall effect. 

"'Your delightful banana reminds me of a cosmonaut in high heels.'" 

Laughter and sex. Sex and laughter. What a fucking aphrodisiac. I could implode here and die a happy, though unfortunately unfulfilled man. I've never had a lover so willing to play as Alex is. For that I am eternally grateful and it's something that I will always cherish because he trusts me enough to let that out here in our bed. 

It's like we're in some kind of weird symbiotic relationship. Whatever I feel bleeds over into him and what he feels to me. I get off on his laughter and it only sparks his own excitement higher. I'm so close that one more hit is bound to send me over the edge and Alex looks like he wouldn't be that far behind me. He's such a selfish altruist. What he does for me, he does for himself. 

I want a kiss before we go. A kiss before dying. Petite morte is waiting and I know he feels the call himself. It's humming between us like summer lightning, electric and primal, just waiting for the chance to strike. He seems to read my need, God I love that, and swoops down for one last plundering play of lips and tongue. Suction and wet, hot stroking that draws us closer before we finally break apart for desperate breaths. 

As I look up at him, I can see that the heat in his eyes has kicked up ten fold. He's got some serious wattage happening there and I feel like I'm scorching under the intensity of it. I can see everything he's feeling in those orbs, all the emotion that rarely gets put into words flares bright as he locks his gaze with mine and whispers, "'In your presence even my shadow acquires the sensation of touch.'" 

Bye, bye reality. Hello, whiteout. I feel as if I've been hit by a truck, my orgasm hits me so hard. 

It hurts so good. 

It spikes when I realise, altered state and all, that Alex's followed me over. He's getting off on my getting off. Gotta love that. 

I can feel the shudders that still wrack his body as I try to catch my breath through the remaining tremors of my own. Somehow he manages to roll off to the side just as his weight starts to become a bit of an impediment to my breathing. Perfect timing, my Alex has. Something I value and am thankful for every day, believe me. 

God, I feel good. It's like every nerve within my body is tingling, like I've been completely re-energised, yet there is that underlying satisfaction that makes me want to just lie here and savour the feeling of wellbeing that the afterglow has infused me with. Yet, we hardly even raised a sweat. 

It's always been like that between us though. Striking sparks off each other even when we weren't sleeping together. Fire, that's what it is. Unadulterated passion, whether it's lust, love, rage or hatred, it's grounded in that same passionate obsession that we have for each other. The only choice we've ever had was how it was going to end - life or death. I'm glad we chose life. 

"I can't believe you're turned on by surrealist compliments." 

His voice is muffled a little by the bed as he turns his head to look at me, breaking me out of my post-coital morbid thoughts. I can't help the satisfied smirk that I know is spreading across my face as I prop myself up with a pillow against the headboard and look over at him. He's completely wrecked, and it's a great look on him. Skin flushed, eyes hazy and heavy-lidded, mouth moist and swollen from our kisses. He looks debauched. I'm sure I probably look the same way. 

"I'm unique." What can I say? It's true, and after all we've been through over the years I would've thought that he'd have gotten a grasp on that. 

"You can say that again." 

"I'm unique." Can't help it, he was asking for it. 

"Shut up, Fox." 

"No." He's way too much fun to tease, especially when he looks so tousled and sated. 

"Don't make me try and come over there and make you." 

"Alex, you have about as much energy as a wet noodle after sex. That's not a threat." 

"Them's fighting words, fibbie." 

"Like you could ... hmphh.." 

"You were saying?" 

"Okay, so I was wrong. I've been known to be wrong before." And I have. I'm willing to admit it, especially if it keeps him doing what he's doing. Oh yeah, I could stay here for about a week and just drown in his kisses. 

It's a complete shock when he breaks off the kiss and jumps off the bed and heads back out to the living room, so I can't help but voice my displeasure. "Hey! Where are you going?" 

"I need to make sure I bookmarked that site." 

He's damn hot, damn sexy and he indulges me. How could I not love him? 

~~ 

Notes: The Surrealist Compliment Generator [http://www.madsci.org/cgi-bin/cgiwrap/~lynn/jardin/SCG] started the whole thing. Credit for Alex's compliments goes here. 

Archived: January 13, 2002 

If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Sin 


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